Silence is Loud
by LovelyLivy
Summary: 'The mere feet between classy jet seats seemed like a never ending abyss of tension that was dulled only by physical fatigue. It was better this way, really.' Tiva. For Ciara.


**_Hello, Peoples of the Tiva Obsession. I will be honest and say this has a strong chance of being an epic fail. My explanation is fairly simple; this is not my obsession. This is for my very best friend, Ciara, because I wanted to make her happy today. HOPE you like it, though. I really wish I knew how to write these two characters, so if you could please leave me a review about how to make this not so OOC that would be greatly appreciated. _****_Kay, thanks._**

**_Livi_**

* * *

Ziva David had never heard silence this loud before. It surrounded them both. The mere feet between classy jet seats seemed like a never ending abyss of tension that was dulled only by physical fatigue. They had not spoken directly since Gibbs had arrived. It was better that way, really, she thought. What would he say?

Tony had said he couldn't live without her and had come on his own free will, thinking she was dead. What should she have to question?

It did not add up in her mind, however. She had said she did not trust him. She had said she wished he was dead. Even for Tony, trying to save a bitter woman who wanted you to be killed seemed very far fetched. It seemed untrue.

Maybe it was a guilty conscience? That must be it. Tony was Tony and Tony was a man. Men always found ways to blame themselves. He must have thought that if he'd tried hard enough, he could have made her stay. He could have prevented this whole thing from happening.

She thought harder. What else could he have done, in his mind? Did he blame himself for killing Michael?

She hoped not.

She should not have trusted Michael. Or Ari. Or her father. They were each the same man to her, really. That question kept nagging at her and she could not understand why until she watched him rub his obviously aching shoulder from across the plane. It clicked, then.

If he had not killed Michael, he would most likely be dead. She had not honestly meant the words when she said them, months prior. But now did he?...

She gagged, her empty stomach aching.

Her body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Images of Saleem and his men and the other women held there at that horrible place flashed through her mind each time she closed her eyes, and yet she struggled against the weight to keep them open. She knew she smelt of dirt and grime and other horrid things that was a constant reminder of the things they did to her.

The inexcusable things.

A throbbing pain pulsated through her skull each time she took a breath and the silence was becoming too overwhelming. With each pulse came a thought. And each thought was what she wished she could say to make this silence end.

I am so very...

_In._

I am so very sorry, Tony.

_Out._

None of this was ever meant to...

_In._

Happen.

_Out._

Please believe me when I..

_In._

When I say I wish things could have been...

_Out._

Different.

With that her eyes closed and all thoughts and feelings and messy things left. Not for good, of course. When she awoke loved ones would be there to greet her and she would be home. Her real home, now.

* * *

Tony sat back in his seat, glad this was finally over. She was there again. And this time he planned to keep it that way. She had said that anything could be avoided. He planned to prove her wrong.

With one last glance at her, now asleep, across the isle, he laid his head back himself. Things would get better, he just knew it.

* * *

And a few months later, on a warm Paris night, the two would walk down a street, hand in hand, gazing up at the Eiffel Tower's bright lights.

They talk and they laugh. Some comments are jovial and others quite serious. In some aspects, they are best friends. And in others...

They can be much, much more.

Which explains why, later, when deciding on who should take the couch or not, they come to a mutual agreement that it really does not matter. They have trust.

She lays her head on his shoulder and he pulls up the blanket, respectfully.

Their breaths a chorus, his deep, hers short and yet even, in some way. Combined with the sound of the rustling of him rubbing soothingly on her back. Only he could ever do that.

And again, she has never heard a relatively silent room be this loud.


End file.
